A little mess of everything
by pellaeonthewingedlion
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles about Tyrion and Sansa, I'm not aiming for more here [Rated M for a good reason]
1. Prologue

**Hello**

**Lately I started a challenge on my Tumblr page, send me a theme or situation and I write a plus sized drabble and send it back to you, all anonymously (meaning you won't find your name here)**

**I now start to publish these drabbles here together with some other little one shots I wrote over the time**

**From now on I will publish irregularly new chapters in this story, whenever inspiration hit me**

**All this stories are incoherent, sometimes fluffy, sometimes angst or sometimes smutty (soon) little somethings of all our favourite pairing and so I hope you feel free to review every single one of them**

**If you have an idea yourself go to my Tumblr page or send me a PM, I send a drabble back**

**Enjoy**


	2. The Dance

**I really like this**

**I own nothing**

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„Do you want to dance my Lord?"

"Don't you think we entertained them enough for one day?" Sansa's new husband gestured around the room, giving her somewhat of a half-smile turning into a grimace because of his scarred face.

"Oh" Sansa averted her eyes, looking down on her hands folded in her lap, her voice turned into a slow misery. Lord Tyrion had a point and she didn't dare to say more.

"My Lady?" His deep voice reached her ear, Sansa looked up again, trying to look in his direction without starring at his face. But she failed, she starred at his scar, he looking at her questioning, his head tilted to the side. "Did I offend you?"

"I just wanted to dance at my wedding. Pardon my Lord." Sansa justified herself with an obedient tone. The last she wanted was to anger him, but saying nothing would have been as bad as saying too much.

"They will laugh at us." Lord Tyrion gave her to consider, putting his cup of wine down for the first time this evening.

"They will laugh at us either way my Lord." Sansa talked back to him her voice low, barely more than a whisper, frightened by her own boldness. Afraid she said too much she averted her eyes again.

It was like she heard a small barked laugh from the malformed Lannister she had just married, but she could have mistaken easily. Sansa starred down on her full plate, she was not in the mood to eat when a hand reached in her field of vision.

Sansa looked up following the arm attached to the hand she found Lord Tyrion at its end. He smiled at her, a smiled turned sinister because of his missing nose, but his eyes had somewhat Sansa couldn't deny to be friendly.

Breathing out relieved Sansa took his hand, a coy smile creeping on her face. For her it was strange, his small hand in hers, like the one of a child. She watched how her husband pushed his chair away from the table, making a loud scratching sound on the floor before jumping out of it. He stumbled for a moment and Sansa feared he would break down because of the wine but nothing happened.

All eyes were on them when Sansa stood up gracefully and let him guide her in front of the table, followed by the whispering, undisguised laughter and giggling from the crowd. Sansa ignored them, also fearing she could meet Joffrey's eyes her eyes stayed fixed on the ground.

"A fair warning first." He said to her when they reached their destination and Sansa finally looked up to Lord Tyrion getting into position. "I am really bad at this."

Perhaps his smile meant his words had been a joke, but Sansa had no idea, she couldn't read him. She simply smiled at him, wanting him to show she didn't care.

A new music started playing and Lord Tyrion bowed to her, Sansa curtsied to him and their dance began.

He hadn't lied, he really was bad, his stature made the entire dance complicated, Sansa had to pay attention any moment, slowing down sometimes. But when his hands took hers and he slowly spun her around the floor, keeping a modest distance to her Sansa started to feel better, her mood reached its peak of the day.

All guest around her seemed to be very amused about them, giggling, causing Lord Tyrion to shot poisoned glares around when he didn't look at her. But Sansa didn't care.

She had always dreamed of her wedding, her father giving her away to her handsome husband. The guest would smile at the feast and she would laugh and smile and be happy, dancing that evening with her new husband.

This wedding was nothing like her dreams, but she had her dance with her husband, it was at least something, a small victory for her. A bit light for her to let her forget the surroundings. So she smiled down at him and he smiled back.

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**Please review**


	3. Hands

**The request was: SansaxTyrion Hands**

**Neither world or characters are mine (I own nothing)**

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Sansa slowly traced the knuckles of the hand, wrapped in her own, not really paying attention to the speech. Tyrion's hand was soft, not as soft as a woman's one, but softer than the hands of most men. She shouldn't be surprised about this, he wasn't the kind of man working with his hands, or fighting, despise of this few occasions in the past the worst his hands experienced were paper cuts or a cut from a feather.

Not that she would complain, she liked his hands, they didn't remind her of the worst days of her life. It had been rough hands beating her, the hands of the Kingsguard, and later the hands of Baelish's henchmen she had escaped. These hands had been rough, scared and cold, cruel, alone the thought made Sansa shiver.

The only complain she had about Tyrion's hands were the constant ink stains. Every evening she had to school him when they took their supper, secretly smiling. He never managed to get this stains from his hands and Sansa hated them.

But this was the only thing she hated about these hands, and the way they felt made up for it. His gentle touch, she came to long for, the warm skin that she felt when he hold her in the night or holding her hand at their daily walk. Not to mention the knowledge these hands would never harm her.

First she had feared their touch, yes the thought alone had scarred her and she had been glad she hadn't had to endure their touch. But by now, years later, here at Oldtown, the new capital, during Queen Daenerys' speech she couldn't think of anything better than holding his hand.

She turned her head to Tyrion, finding him looking up to her with a questioning expression. Smiling Sansa guided his hand to her mouth and kissed it gently. She briefly asked herself if he loved her hands as much as she loved his.

He did

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**[ghostly moving my fingers and whisper:] Review ;)**


	4. Romans

**I was asked for a historical AU and wihout more wishes I made something more summerising**

**Maybe some of you now I study ancient history so this time, most people don't really know about seemed fitting**

**I own nothing**

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Tyrion observed the servants sprinkling the olive trees with wine, his eyes then wandering to the mare iternum. He could see the mare tyrrhenum from his villa in Campania, it was beautiful. He lolled in his couch and put the papyrus scroll with the work of the Greek Thucydides aside, enough arrogant Greeks for one day.

Tyrion took a Kylix filled with wine from a servant aside from him and enjoyed the view when he saw Sansa strolling towards him. Tyrion couldn't avoid to marvel her beauty, in her light, blue, greek peplos matching the sea and her eyes. Her auburn hair was braided after the newest mode and she smiled.

She was beautiful, a perfect, young, wife and yet she was married to him, the malformed dwarf, the former Aedile who would most likely never reach higher, even after the great games he had hosted, outshining his co-Aedile. But the people still seemed not to like him enough to elect him further.

After Sulla had taken Rome and renewed the res publica, Sansa's family had gotten up in the maelstrom of his proscription. Even if her father never had been one of Cinna' followers or supporters he had somehow made enough enemies to find his name on one of the lists one day.

Tyrion's father on the other hand, the so all great consularis had joined Sulla the day he had arrived in Brundisium at the beginning of the war, together with enough men for half a Legion. And even now, after Sulla was dead, he hadn't lost his influence in the Senate. So when his father had searched a wife out of a patrician house for him he found her. Their marriage secured the surviving of the rest of her disenfranchised family. Excluding her brother who fought with Sertorius in Hispania.

"You look stunning my love." Tyrion greeted her with a smile when she arrived and sat down beside him on the couch, waving the servant away.

"From your brother." She said smiling back and handed him a letter after kissing him on his forehead. Tyrion took the wax board when she summarised: "He wants you back in Rome, apparently he needs your help with his speeches again."

Of course, Jaime had never been a good rhetoric student, but Tyrion was. His speeches had made Jaime Praetor and now after he returned from Hispania, where he ironically fought Sertorius, their father expected him to become Consul. Jaime just reached the new minimum age to take the white toga for the election.

"I don't want to go just now." Tyrion leaned against Sansa, letting her lay her arm round him. "We have summer, no one will be in the city." Yes, during the summer death came to the city and all members of the nobility left to one of their villas. "But more important, in Rome we can't be alone."

He looked up to Sansa, and kissed her, breathing in her scent mixing with the scent of wine from the gardens.

"He is your brother, you should help him." Sansa smiled in his mouth, backing away and let her gaze wander, deep in thoughts. "Do it"

"As you wish." Tyrion replied, listening to her even if its hurt to give up their solitude for the overcrowded streets of Rome. Both gazed out to the sea, leaning against each other. "But not today."

They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting together in the garden, wrapped in each other.

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**I know, a bit latin, but still, please review**


	5. In the dark of the night

**I wrote this for the asoiaf kinkmeme, I forgot the prompt sorry**

**I own nothing**

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His breath had gone steady for a while now, she was sure he had fallen asleep. It was already deep in the night. The Keep was silent, not even cats or dogs were to hear and the windows she could see from her own were dark as well. He always thought she would fall asleep long before him and she let him in his belief. She turned away and pretended to be in deep slumber, waiting until she was sure he would sleep.

Slowly and very carefully Sansa turned and rolled on her back, paying fastidious attention not to cause too much movement that could wake her Lord-Husband. Braced on her arms she sat up in the large featherbed, pressing the blanket at her chest. It was a stupid gesture of shame, nobody was there to see her but she still felt better with it.

He was lying on his side, turned away from her. It was always the same, after she had turned away from him he did as well. Sansa had never pictured her time with her husband like that. She had thought he would hold her in the night, but she had also thought it would be a handsome tall man, not him.

What she did had become a ritual over the time, she didn't know anymore why she had started or which night it had been exactly but now it was always the same.

Sansa looked down upon the small frame of the man she had been married to. He looked like a child with a too tall head together with light blond hair. This night had a full moon so she had a good look on him. It was easier in the night.

'In the dark I am the knight of the Flower' He had said, he had been wrong.

But Sansa was able to look at him for a longer time without averting her gaze to the ground. Maybe because she couldn't see his face, his scar or because he was asleep and there was no danger he would take her gaze as an invitation to ravish her.

Sansa observed how his covered body went up and down in steady breaths. She didn't know why she watched him, why she tried to get use to him. Dontos had promised to bring her out of the city. But every day she had more and more doubts. What if he would fail? What if they would come after her and then what?

After all Lord Tyrion had been kind to her and still was. Sansa wasn't sure anymore if she was willing to risk that for an uncertain future on the run. Maybe it would be easier with him than without.

But if she really considered to stay she had to be able to at least stand him, his presence, maybe even more. Yes, it would be easier with more.

She slowly reached out for him. She did that every night but had never been bold enough to actually touch him. What if he would wake up?

The pale skin of her hand shimmered silver in the moonlight when her finger lingered over his shoulder. Sansa could feel the heat his body radiated in the cold night. He was always warm, she could even feel his warmth when she was at the other side of the bed.

Her breath went quicker and on her back she felt sweat and Goosebumps rising. She had no idea what she did, why she did it. It was like a small part of her urged her hand when it slowly went down. Her fingertips touched him, for a moment she felt his flesh though his nightshirt before she flinched away.

Her heart hammered in her chest. What was going on with her? Her head was dizzy. Sansa loosed her gaze from him and turned her head to the other side, gazing out of the window.

Over the dark silhouette of the Red Keep she saw the bright full moon in the night sky. The moon, the luminary the wolves howl at. It was like it would give her strength, it was the wolf's moon.

Taking a deep breath she turned her head back to the sleeping man at her side. Slowly but with more courage she guided her hand back to his shoulder and lied it down on it. Her hand lied loose on him and carefully Sansa lowered more of the weight of her arm on it.

Nothing happened. He didn't jump up or wake up. It made Sansa even bolder and she guided her hand up and brushed through his hair.

To her surprise it was very fine and not greasy like it was so often with men. It felt like silk and when she leaned back to let the moonlight reach his head it turned to sparkle white gold.

He still hadn't woken up and now all fear had been washed away for Sansa. She guided her hand back down and carefully turned him on his back to look at his face. She herself changed her position as well. She moved on her knees, towering at his side looking down on him.

He looked better in his sleep, peaceful. But the light was still caught in his scar and illuminated his gruesome features. But at the moment Sansa didn't care, if she imagined right he could even look cute while sleeping.

She traced along his cheeks with her fingers. A soft smile appeared in her face by the feeling on his skin. She cherished the moment, even if she knew that after dawn he would be the ugly dwarf and she the silent Lady again. It would be as if the night had never happened and for the moment it would be better.

But then another urge came over her, driven by the moon, the wolf's moon.

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Tyrion had been surprised that she had managed to finally touch him this time. He had always been a light sleeper and so he had noticed when she had started to watch him sleep in the nights but had never said a word. He was glad his wife showed at least a bit interest in him and had no wish to destroy it by revealing to her that he had never been asleep.

When he had felt her hand over his shoulder again this night he had assumed she would take it always as always, but not this time. She had actual touched him, even turned him around, traced his face. It was hard to keep control over his body by her actions, pretending to sleep without letting her know. But now after her hand was away it was better.

Suddenly he felt something at the sides of his face, falling down his cheeks, it was light and heavy together, it tickled him. Then Tyrion realized it was her hair brushing his cheeks. He felt a presence over his face, her warm breath came over his cheeks and his scar, he had nearly to flinch. Totally bewildered he concluded her face hovered over his. But Why?

He had his answer when soft warm lips brushed his own. By his surprise, yes shock he had nearly opened his eyes or exhaled a sound, but he had managed not to.

She had kissed him, he was amazed by what she was able to do in the dark of the night thinking him asleep. He would have been glad to return the kiss, revealing that he was awake but he knew he would have destroyed it with this gesture. So he waited patiently while she turned him back in his old position and lied down as well.

After that he could finally open his eyes. He starred at the, by the moon illuminated, wall and asked himself what had just happened. Had she liked it? Will it happen again?

He would clearly not find sleep that night.

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**Review, please**


	6. The Iron Throne

**This would look so much better in a comic, but I suck at drawing**

**I own nothing**

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"Looks comfortable, let me sit down too." Sansa said in her sweetest voice, she stood in front of the Iron Throne, towering over her husband, who having his arse placed in his seat.

"Sansa, that's impossible. Only the King and his Hand are allowed to sit on the throne, no one else, not even the Queen." He explained himself, trying to reason with Sansa. Sansa on the other hand wasn't very amused about his word, pressing her fists in her hips and fixing him with her eyes.

"And I don't lend you my hand, dear husband? You never complained." Sansa leaned forward, causing him to back up in his chair a stern expression on her face.

"Sansa…" He started, opening his arms apologetic. But he fell silent when a grin formed on Sansa's face, an idea had just popped I her mind.

Seizing the opportunity, exploiting his unawareness, Sansa turned around and sat down, burying her small husband and King under her.

"Sansa..." He muffled a protest in her back, flailing with his arms at his sides. Despise his movements Sansa made herself comfortable in his lap, placing her hand on the sharp knifes on her sides. Giggling amused.

She sat gracefully in the Iron Throne, or to her personal fun, technically she sat on the King, not on the throne.

"Sansa" Tyrion finally managed to peak his head out from behind her, looking up to her.

Sansa grinned wide in his face and turned her body to give him a long kiss.

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**If anybody would draw that I would love it**


	7. As I give a fuck

**I really have no better title**

**This was my first smut (more than a year old), be gentle**

**Standart disclaimer: I own nothing**

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Her marriage wasn't happy, Sansa knew that. Tyrion tried but after all he was a Lannister, she couldn't imagine to love him. But what bothered her even more was that the Queen took so much pleasure out of her misery. Sansa felt her gaze on her on every occasion a spiteful smirk playing around her features.

One evening at a feast, when Sansa sat beside her husband at the table, she decided she wanted to wipe this satisfied smirk of the Queen's face.

In a bold move she took Tyrion's arm and leaned against him with a peacefully expression on her own face, while she rubbed her cheek against his. He was startled at first, her sudden expression of affection had been unforeseeable but when he followed her eyes he saw the sour expression on his sister's face and he understood, played along.

It gave Sansa more satisfaction than she had thought, to see Cersei so displeased and she decided if she couldn't do anything else she would do this.

Tyrion liked her plan and played his part eagerly. They held hands in the halls or even exchanged light kisses, smiled at each other and Sansa discovered that he was a pleasant companion. After she had gotten used to his face and his touch. She even started to enjoy it.

But after a while it wasn't enough anymore. Sansa had to go further if she wanted to see the Queen's discomfort about her happiness in her marriage. Which started to become real, to Sansa's surprise.

At another feast, when she was sure only the Queen could see her and her husband, to accomplish that wasn't hard because nobody ever looked at them, except for Sansa's sister-in-law, Sansa let her hand slide into Tyrion's trousers and grabbed his manhood. He let out a sound of discomfort, afraid she had gripped too hard she loosen her hand but let it rest on his for her surprisingly soft flesh. Tyrion gazed at her in surprise, he obviously hadn't expected that but he didn't object either. Sansa knew women could give men pleasure with their hands and when she felt how his flesh hardened under her finger she started to move up and down on Tyrion's manhood. She continued her movements, keeping a steady pace, at this feast, in public and the Queen watched with a shocked expression.

Sansa smirked at her, she had her again. But while she did it she experienced that it wasn't unpleasant for her. Tyrion's manhood, the one she had feared in their wedding night was actually not so bad. After a while he leaned his head back heavy panting and she felt suddenly something moist in his pants. The Queen left by the sight with an expression Sansa couldn't read but she was sure it wasn't a pleasant one.

The following night she lost her maidenhead, she had initialised it, had wanted to know it and Tyrion had been dear to her by then.

She had loved it, it hadn't been what she expected, he had been gentle and she had felt the pleasure he could bring her. And then she had the idea.

The Queen was on her way to Tyrion's solar when Sansa beheld her in the yard and made herself ready. She bent over Tyrion's desk, facing the door the Queen would use and waited. She heard how Tyrion climbed on the chair behind her and felt him lifting her gown and shirt, revealing her bare ass.

She felt with lust the cold air tickling her cheeks and how Tyrion traced with his hands over them until one of his hands found her lower lips.

He circled them with his clever fingers and eventually inserted one of them inside her. Sansa exhaled a moan by this feeling. She already felt wetness dripping down her thighs and knew she was ready.

He gently gripped her hips and placed his cock at her entrance, she felt the tripping head and rocked her hips back, taking him inside her. The pleasure built up in her when Tyrion slowly began to move back and forth, in and out of her, in a clear rhythm, it nearly overwhelmed her when he slightly sped up, pressing her gently in the desk.

The door was swung open and the Queen marched in the room, but was suddenly frozen by sight. Sansa had waited for it.

"Oh, your grace" Sansa braced herself on her hands and reached out with her hand, smiling at her. Tyrion on the other hand didn't stop fucking her, like planed.

"Do you want to join us?" Sansa asked in a sweet voice, rocking back and forth with her body, her hair tangling around her face.

Cersei had even been paler than usual and now she looked like she would faint. It was a pleasure for Sansa to see her flee the room. And short after that her climax arrived and Tyrion shot his seed into her. She collapsed on the desk, yes this was great day.

Cersei tried to avoid them now, but they made sure she would caught them in compromising situations, like Tyrion on a chair and Sansa kneeing between his legs, or the other way around. It was hilarious for them and Sansa was really glad that she had done it. After a while Cersei demanded them to leave to Casterly Rock and they did …

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**Still two hands and a good image in your head?**

**Hope this is not too much for FF . net**

**Please review**


	8. You are not old

**For a the asoiaf kinkmeme too**

**I hope I don't get kicked for this**

**I own nothing**

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Tyrion walked through the long corridors of Casterly Rock, trying not to think. Today was his Nameday, his thirty-seventh Nameday, he was getting old. His stature had always been a complication but now when he grew old, it was becoming worse.

He was bowed, had problems to walk straight, maybe he would need a cane sooner rather than later. Like with his father his hair started to disappear, he had no idea were. He had the suspicion Cersei's ghost haunted the Rock and picked out his hair one by one every night. His beard only boosted the impression of him as an old man, in his opinion he looked like what the people once had told him: An Imp.

Sansa's sister had advised him lately to use this as a benefit and start to tell the children of the Rock stories, like some sort of storyteller. He sitting in a chair, hands on a cane and telling stories, not yet.

Gerion, his son, was just five years old, when he would be a man Tyrion would be forty-eight. He was old, too old.

It had made him very grumpy the entire day, he had avoid any festivities Sansa had hosted for him today, he hadn't wanted to be remembered of all this. She knew he felt old, knew how much it pained him but still insisted.

"If you feel old, do something not to" Had been her advice three days ago. "Celebrate a feast."

He wouldn't be surprised if she wouldn't stay with him tonight, she had worked too much and he hadn't appeared, making all of it undo.

Continuing to trail in this thoughts he opened the door to the Lord's chamber, not expecting anyone to be there.

His eyes widened when he stepped inside and found the room lit in candles, glancing straight to his bed he held his breath.

Sansa laid on her stomach, facing him with a wide grin. Her legs crossing above her in the air. In one hand she held a cup of wine and in the other a peacock feather, playing with it. Trailing it over her full lips.

She was naked, naked and so beautiful that Tyrion for a moment forgot how to breathe. Fixed on his spot he marvelled her pale, flawless skin, her auburn hair that fell elegant around her head and on her back. Her blue eyes on him.

He was stunned, his blood pressure went high and his mouth dropped open.

There was his wife, his beautiful young wife. Young she was indeed, just twenty-five.

A crack from the fireplace brought him back out of his thoughts, he was still starring at her. Sansa on the other hand just watched him grinning, occasionally taking a sip of her wine.

"I think it's time that you stop feeling old." She purred, raising from her position and sat up.

Now her breasts were partially covered by her hair. By the sight Tyrion not bothered to think, just walked towards her, frantically unbutton his shirt. When he reached the edge of the bed and wanted to climb on he found the feather in front of his face.

"What made you think I would just let you in?" Sansa asked him wide grinning, holding the feather up to him. "You're not an old man who gets this for free."

"I thought we are married?" He asked, still undressing while trying to figure out her game.

"This is clearly not a free pass, just a license so you _are allowed _to be with me." She took a sip of her wine before continuing: "You still have to earn it."

"And how should I earn it."

"You are smart, do what all young man do. Seduce me" Her last sentence was a tempting whisper that made him gulp, clearly to her amusement.

"When I was young I normally paid." He gave back

"To bad that gold won't bring you up here" Sansa traced the edge of the bed with the feather, clearly enjoying herself.

Tyrion dropped the last of his clothes to the ground, leaning against the bed. The mattress was so high only his arms and head reached it. He crossed his arms on the soft material and laid his head on them, gazing up to his wife.

Sansa now leaned at the headboard, legs stretched out, wine and feather still in her hands.

"Maybe silver." Tyrion suggested seductively, grinning brightly. "They say I have a silver tongue, not to mention my cleaver fingers." He wiggled with his fingers.

"Oh, such a dirty old man" Sansa teased him, before lifting the feather to let him climb on the bed.

Nearly jumping Tyrion reached his destination, rushing over to Sansa, who didn't move. In a liquid motion he carefully snatched the feather out of her hand, positioning himself between her legs. His head was on the same level with hers.

Tyrion slowly and with a roguish grin let the large green feather trace over her skin. Starting with her foot he guided it higher and higher, letting it briefly circle at the auburn spot between her legs, it charmed a treacherous sound out of her. He then traced over her belly, between her breasts until he reached her noble neck.

Seeing with satisfaction the excitement in her face, he guided the feather along her throat until she closed her eyes, making a sensual sound.

Smiling he leaned forward, kissing her lips. She tasted sweet, like dornish red. He closed his eyes, putting his tongue to use like he had promised. He didn't notice how she threw the cup away, it clattered loudly on the floor. With both hands free she swung them around him, pressing him towards her hot flesh.

Tyrion put the feather to good use by letting it flew over her sensitive nipples, causing her to moan in his mouth. His other hand trailed down her side to her hip.

He then slowly backed up from her mouth and started to trail kisses down her neck. His free hand wandered between her legs but was suddenly griped by one of hers. Her firm grip caused him to look up in her smirking face.

"Not enough my love." She poured, licking her lips. "You must do much more than that tonight."

Obeying Tyrion lowered his head to her chest, taking one of her breasts in his mouth, using his silver tongue to circle her nipple. Meanwhile he used the feather to trail back down, he could feel how goosebumps rose from her skin and a giggle escaped between her moans.

Tyrion was in heat, his entire body felt vitalized, agile like it once had felt. Forgotten were the thoughts of being old.

He switched the breast, using his free hand to take the place of his mouth. Upping her breast and replaced his tongue with his thumb. It was then when Sansa put one of her hands on his head pushing him down. He didn't resist.

Tyrion kissed all the way down her belly, sliding his tongue in her bellybutton before he reached his destination.

His tongue trailed through her wet, hot folds. He let it circle her bud. Her sent drove him mad, he went faster and faster.

His own need overcame him when he felt her arms going through his arms to his chest. Quick and strong she pushed him away from her, a moan escaping her. He flew back on the mattress, lying on his back. He had lost the feather.

Tyrion now saw how Sansa crawled over to him, her long hair falling at the side when she straddled his feet.

He just watched with an open mouth when she lowered her head between his legs to his crotch. One of her hands going to his cock she wrapped her long elegant finger around it. Sansa gazed up to him a grin on her face again. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair in disorder when she darted her tongue out and traced the head of his cock.

Now it was Tyrion who moaned, he fisted the sheets, trying to keep control when Sansa started to drop up and down of his cock, her warm mound around his flesh.

Her tongue was on the underside of his manhood, driving him crazy. He was nearly at his release when she guided him out of her and trailed his cock with her tongue down to his balls. But after a short kiss she left him completely, sitting up.

Tyrion groaned in frustration, he had been so close. Starring questioning at Sansa, who smiled mischievous before crawling further up to him, now finally straddling his hips with hers.

Her fingers were circling his chest, playing and twirling his chest hair. Tyrion slowly raised his arms, bringing them to her hips, urging her down on him.

One of her hands reached between them, fisting his cock to guide him into her.

The sensation when he was fully seated in her was amazing. She bounced up and down, up and down. It didn't take long until both were panting. His hands were one at her breast the other between her legs, circling her bud. Totally lost in the act Sansa's moans began to grow louder.

They reached their peak simultaneously. Tyrion felt how her folds clamped down on his cock, the pure thought of it was enough for him.

Afterwards Sansa collapsed on him, too exhausted to move they stayed that way. The fireplace warming they bodies.

"So much to being old." Sansa whispered breathless in his ear. "You are not old."

And Tyrion didn't feel old.

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Two month later when they were sitting together in their solar, Sansa suddenly leaned over to him, whispering in his ear.

"I have another proof that you aren't old my love." She cupped one of his cheeks. "Old man doesn't father children."

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**I promised smut, review if you still have two hands to use**


	9. The Rescue

**Another request, be surprised!**

**I own nothing**

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Tyrion slowly opened his eyes to the sound of screams and hooves thundering over the ground. His entire body ached, his hands, tied in front of him were limp.

He looked around with half closed eyes, his head roaring terrible. He saw rider galloping through rapid rising dark smoke, Direwolf flags garlanded with gold flying above their mailed heads. His savagery captors were falling through their flashing swords screaming gruesome.

_How was this possible?_

He had foolishly gone to one of the wilder clans in the Wolfswood trying to negotiate with them. But somehow he had offended them. They had slayed his men and taken him captive, intending to execute or sacrifice him, however.

Tyrion had already feared his father could have been right and his tongue would finally be the cause of his death. He felt like dying, he felt cold, like at the Blackwater. His spirit had been clouded by the prospect of death, the prospect never to see Sansa again.

It was like a long cry of his name would echoing through his head above all the noise when someone knelt beside him. Looking up Tyrion's eyes found Sansa, protected by a long, thick, grey cloak, towering above him. He long auburn hair fell free from under her hood.

_Impossible, _she was at Winterfell, save, together with their children.

Tyrion's mind found only one explanation, he WAS, indeed, dying and the gods were after all merciful, allowing him to look at her one last time. He mustered her pale face, trying to focus on her eyes, they were always what he found most beautiful on her.

But then her hand cupped his face, warm flesh touching his skin, very real flesh. She smiled down at him, pulling back her hood.

"Sansa … what?" He asked her puzzled, pressing out every word.

"Hush", she laid her finger on his mouth, mustering him with concern in her eyes, a little tear streaming down her cheek.

"Why? How?" Tyrion couldn't bring order in his thoughts, feeling weak and cold.

"Did you think you would be the only one with the privilege to save your spouse?" A small grin appeared in the corner of her mouth.

Tyrion still was quizzed, observing how she produced a knife from under her cloak, seeing how silver chainmail peaked out from beneath the grey fabric.

"Do you forget I am a wolf?" She cut his bonds unceremoniously, helping him to sit up, guiding him slowly.

Tyrion was stunned, his mind still didn't work properly, but the rest of him worked, despise the pain. He swung his limp arms around her, burying himself in her side, crying out of happiness.

"Sansa" Tyrion cried. She held him, stroking his head she laid her own on his, forgetting the fight around them.

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**I was asked if Sansa could rescue Tyrion for a change**

**I liked to write this maybe I will do this more often**

**Please feel still fee to review**


	10. Paris

**I was asked for a 1920th AU**

**I have next to know knowledge about this time but I tried my best**

**I own nothing**

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Tyrion slowly put his copy of the _Great Gatsby _on the table besides his large armchair when he caught her sign. She wandered gracefully through the thick smoke of the café at the _Avenue de l'Op__ear__. _

She was stunning, not wearing flappers like most women did these days but an elegant blue dress embroidered with silver. Her auburn hair was braided short and filled with hairpins showing glittering butterflies. He had already an idea who she was but wasn't sure yet.

Tyrion followed her with his eyes when she went to the bar and Tyrion could hear her asking the bartender something in a prominent American accent over the silent costumers of the cafe. Now Tyrion was sure she was Sansa Stark. He smiled winning seeing the bartender pointing in the direction of his booth.

His father had sent Tyrion to Paris to overlook their investments in the city. Paris overflowed with people, nearly three million by now, good times for Americans with real property. To his ever going offense his father had sent him, the Harvard graduate, best of his year to do the job of an accountant.

Tyrion didn't like the city, of course the lack of prohibition in Europe was nice, but else? He preferred the Jazz clubs of New York and the Art Deco over the French capitol. Not to mention that he missed his library. He would have studied literature, he could have, but his father had shattered his dream of becoming a professor of literature and had forced him to join the family business, studying law and economics.

However a few days ago he had received a telegram ordering him to escort sweet Miss Stark back to the US. Somehow their families had some bounds in the great mess called New York upper society and her parents were concerned about their daughter. Tyrion was supposed to take her home, their ship would sail in a week.

The young woman, in her early twenties as much as Tyrion could guess, approached him, her dress flattering around her astonishing long legs. She stopped for a moment in front of him, staring at him wide eyed before she found her composure back.

"Miss Stark, I suppose" Tyrion greeted her friendly, jumping out of his armchair and bowed his head. "I see nobody told you about my appearance."

"Mr Lannister" She greeted him hesitating, a light blush on her pale skin "I am sorry, I am"

"Don't be sorry, please sit" Tyrion offered her the armchair besides his and waited patiently until she sat down before doing the same, gesturing the garcon to bring wine. "How do you like Paris?"

"It's wonderful, really" Miss Stark started to speak, visibly relieved to overcome the awkward moment. "The architecture and the art, did you see the Louvre?"

"Oh, I did." Tyrion confirmed to her, smiling at her attitude. "And have you been at the _Galeries Lafayette_?" Tyrion asked for the famous department store with the glass dome, violating the French language with his tongue.

"Oh I did" Sansa Stark said smiling, searching in her purse after taking one of this long cigarette holders, Tyrion always forgot the name of, in her mouth. She found a cigarette but apparently no fire so Tyrion offered her his golden lighter. "Thank you Mr Lannister"

"My pleasure Miss Stark, but please Tyrion, we will spent a few weeks in each other's company. It would be easier to call me by my name."

"Very unusual, Tyrion" She giggled, light-hearted, blowing smoke out of her red lips.

The garcon brought two glasses of wine to the table and Tyrion tipped him graciously before sliding one of the glasses nearer to Miss Stark. "The best wine of the town, and that means something"

"Thank you" She replied and carefully took a sip, coughing nearly imperceptible, causing Tyrion to grin."

"Your first?"

"My mother is one of the strong spokeswoman of the prohibition." She explained herself, placing the glass back on the table.

"Ah, and I presume the greatest enemy of my sister then." He chuckled seeing her bewildered. "One more reason to enjoy Europe, don't you think? I should get you drunk before we go on board of the ship." The young woman just smiled defensive at his suggestion before grimacing on the ship part.

"No sailor in you Miss Stark?"

"Not really, I was already sick on trip to Europe. And it's Sansa." She explained, averting her eyes a bit, but continued to smile.

"Maybe if we wait a few years we can fly." Tyrion said, drawing her eyes back to him. "The Germans seem to plan to build a zeppelin to fly over the ocean." Tyrion told her excited about the prospect of the new technology of their time, sadly Sansa didn't seem so eager. "Not a bird either aren't we?"

"Not really."

"Too sad." Tyrion commented and an awkward silence returned so he asked: "And what led you to the old world?"

"I study literature and took a semester in England." She said to him, causing Tyrion's eyes to widen

"Do you?" He grinned in anticipation and took his book from the table. "Read this? It reminds me very much of the 'society' we are in."

"Oh I have, but…" Sansa started to tell him her opinion on the book in great confidence and passion. Tyrion started to think he would enjoy the journey back with her more than he had expected.

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**Hope you liked it**

**Still take requests**


	11. Childrensplay

**I was asked for them playing with their children**

**I don't make anything with this and own nothing**

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„Why am I on this thing again? " Tyrion questioned again, spreading his arms to both sides with the aim of balancing on the piece of wood laying over the little artificial pond. He tried to find a good stand on the unsteady plank fearing to fall heads first in the cold water.

"Because somebody has to." Sansa exclaimed, an encouraging smile on her face.

"You can talk" Tyrion called back, nearly tripping over his own foot. Sansa kneeled on the grass a few feet away from him, looking like a picture out of a dream. Little Bran stood in front of her, his tiny hands taking hold of Sansa's extended arms. They were practicing walking.

Tyrion would have liked to assist her with him, he had always been good by teaching their children walking, but today he had a different task. On the edge of the pond, the end of the plank, stood Joanna and Gerion waiting eagerly to start with the game.

A week ago Sansa's bloody brother Rickon had visited, telling the children of a game, 'crossing the bridge' or something like that. One player would guard the bridge, or better the plank, and the other had to try to take his position or cross the bridge, one by one. Tyrion still wasn't sure how this would work and he was a bit anxious, still trying to find a good stand.

"Where are your siblings?" He asked towards his eldest children after letting his gaze wandering. "Where are Ned and Catty?" In unison Geri and Joanie pointed to their right. Following their fingers Tyrion found Ned, looking grim as always, sitting beside Catty who seemed to build a castle out of mud from a flowerpot. Her gown was more brown than blue and Tyrion shot a quick glimpse towards Sansa, hoping she hadn't noticed yet. He sighed audible when he saw she hadn't.

"All right, let's start." Tyrion announced hectic, turning towards his other eldest son and daughter. "Geri, you start." Tyrion was determined to change his position quickly to intervene with Catty before Sansa would notice, it was such a nice afternoon and the last he needed was Sansa schooling Catty. He knew she only wanted the best but sometimes she was a bit over the top

Gerion carefully stepped on the plank, balancing towards him and when he reached Tyrion, Tyrion held up his hand and declared pompous:

"You reached the guard of the bridge, solve the question or take his place." Tyrion shot his son a small smirk, glancing over to Ned and Catty. He had to get to them, soon.

"What, that's not how…" Gerion protested but Tyrion silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"I think the guard of the bridge knows how to play this game." Gerion looked at him suspicious, but said nothing. Tyrion's son had a perfect stand, not faltering like Tyrion did. "What circles the sun and gleam like it at the same time?" Tyrion asked, applauding himself for the idea to make his a game of riddles. Joanna would be the next to play and a game of mind was much fairer towards her than a game basing on strength, Gerion would simply throw her in the water and could easily hurt her inadvertently. They might only be a year apart but he was much stronger than her.

Tyrion glanced up to Gerion, his son and heir looked dumfounded, totally bewildered his oldest child glanced around seeking help. Tyrion on the other hand grinned wicked, now glancing over to Joanna who had the same kind of grin on her face.

"So?"

"I…" Gerion started, mouth wide open, thinking. Tyrion ceased the opportunity and backed up from the plank, not giving his son a fair chance.

"So, now you are the guard of the bridge." He announced, giving a wink to Joanna before rushing towards Eddard and Catelyn, letting Gerion and Joanna play alone. "By the way, I meant your cousin Myrcella!" Tyrion shouted over his shoulder.

A joyous squeal from his toddler daughter welcomed him when he reached the mud castle. Smiling wide he took her of the ground with his strong arms. Catty was luckily still small enough so he could hold her, but soon she would be too tall for that like the other. He wasn't blissed with the right to carry his children for long.

"And what do you think you are doing?" Tyrion grinned in her happy face, bringing her forehead to his before kissing her on the nose. "You know how your mother is. Look at you, I saw Wildlings with cleaner clothes."

"I build castle" Catty explained to him with a wide smile, pointing down with her dirty hands. "I'm not ready yet" The moment she finished she tried to escape his arms, somehow managed to end up heads down with Tyrion struggling to hold her.

"Young Lady." Tyrion spoke out of breath, finally able to put her down on her feet somehow. "If you want to build a castle I am the last to stop you, but do you know what?" He asked her conspiratorially, bending his head down to hers, his hand laying on her shoulder.

"What what?" Catty asked excited, understanding he was about to tell her a secret.

"You must have a plan first. How about you get parchment from Maester Willibald and draw one. All great castle builders do this."

"Yes, but… will you help me?" She asked with her big green eyes looking up to him, and as usual Tyrion couldn't refuse, he nodded and guided his smiling daughter towards the hallway, glancing to Sansa to make sure she hadn't seen her daughter making a mess out of herself.

"But change in a new dress first." He whispered in Catty's ear before sending her on her way with one of the handmaiden waiting in the hallway, instructing the maid to make sure Catty would be presentable before she returned. Smiling at the excited face of his soon to be castle building daughter Tyrion turned and walked back to Ned who still sat near Catty's mud castle.

"And I thought you were clever enough to know how your mother dislike it to see your little sister in mud brown." Tyrion said, dropping on the grass next to his incessantly grim son.

"She didn't want to listen" Ned announced with a shrug. "I tried to talk to her but she said she would only stop if I would smile for her."

"And you were outrageous?" Tyrion overplayed his words with his hands, nudging the never smiling Ned at his shoulder. But his impassioned expression made Tyrion a bit more serious. "You should smile Ned, life is too short not to." His middle child threw Tyrion a look that stated he knew but didn't care. "Even my Lord-father smiled, not often, but he did."

"I am not the type to smile father" Ned declared, standing up to escaped Tyrion and his fatherly worries.

"I will get you to smile!" Tyrion yelled after him. "Your mother didn't smile either at the beginning but I never gave up and see her now." Tyrion smiled at his leaving son, he headed towards the pond to join his older siblings. Tyrion briefly remembered how the time was when he had wished for Sansa just to smile once. Dreams, it had been a dream to see his wife smile for him.

'A small man with small dreams' Tyrion chuckled under his breath about what he once had been before pushing himself up and walked over to Sansa and Bran.

His little son was making his careful steps with Sansa humming behind him when Tyrion sat down opposite to her. Tyrion held out his arms, encouraging Bran to come to him. Sansa chuckle lightly and let loose of Bran's hand, pushing him forward gently. Tyrion observed proudly how his little son made stumbled steps over to him without a trace of fear in his eyes. Tyrion caught him in his arms the moment Ned reached him, turning him around to send him back to Sansa.

"I am right to assume you sent Catty together with a handmaiden, not alone, to change her dress?" Sansa asked nonchalant, reaching out to prevent Bran from stumbling over his feet.

"You know?" Tyrion asked bewildered, staring wide eyed at her form. A wide grin formed on her face and her blue eyes fix him.

"I am aware of all concerning my children." Sansa explained him the obvious turning Bran around to Tyrion again. "Like I know that Joanie solves Geri's riddles one by one for quite some time now, crossing the bridge over and over again. But I was a bit busy here and thought you could handle the situation with Catty and Ned."

Tyrion wanted to give her a witty comment when a scream from behind drew his attention to the pond.

"It seems Geri thought it wise to not let his sister pass" Sansa commented chuckling, Tyrion saw how the water of the little pond was churning and a soaking wet Gerion climbed out of the pond. "Go, she already stepped on his foot and threw him in the pond, make sure she doesn't hurt him."

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**I know it's short but hope you still liked it**


	12. Autumn, Princesses and a night out

**I was asked for a NY AU**

**I make no money with GRRM creation**

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Sansa snuggled close to Tyrion, pulling her naked feet under herself on the big couch. Absently, with a smile on her lips she laid her head on his, taking in the smell of his hair mixing with the smell of burning wood from the fireplace and smell of hot spiced wine from the mugs in front of them.

Sansa felt him shifting under her, adjusting his position so he could lean closer to her. Together they looked out of the panorama window of their apartment over the now colourful leafs of Central Park.

They remained, curled up in each other, watching the shadows of the buildings grow longer while the setting sun dove the city in red light. The crackling of the fire in the background only interrupted by the occasionally sound of police cars rushing through the city. It was peaceful.

But then the dark voice of 'The National' slowly singing out of Tyrion's phone interrupted their peaceful autumn evening alone together. Groaning angrily Tyrion shifted under her and reached for his smartphone.

"You could change your ringtone, it's creepy" Sansa commented dryly pushing herself in a straight position. She felt dissatisfied and frustrated to lose the warmth of their embrace. Tyrion gave her an apologetic look over his shoulder, fumbling with the display of his phone. Exhaling a disapproving huff, Sansa took her now cold cup of wine and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees.

She purposely ignored Tyrion speaking in his phone, pretending to marvelling the skyline of New York in deep thoughts.

She loved their new apartment. It was on the twentieth floor with a large living area covered in wood. Sansa liked the interior but the reason she loved the apartment and preferred it over their house at the coast was the windows with this stunning view over Central Park. Not to mention that the Broadway was just a little jump away.

But the downside was that Tyrion had much more work by living in the city than outside. At the moment he was the only board member of his father's company always available in the city while the rest of his family lived outside, meaning he was the one who got called if some nonsense needed to be done, no matter at which hour.

Sansa wasn't fond of the situation at all and had told him a thousand times to turn off his damn phone, at least when they were lone. His father could easily take a helicopter to Wall Street and would be quicker there than Tyrion with the car. But he let his father exploit him every day and it drove her mad.

Sometimes she thought about leaving the city with him, she could work wherever it pleased her. It would force Tywin to do some of the unthankful labour himself. But then there was the view and the living city pulsing around them.

When his mumbling besides her ceased Sansa turned to Tyrion who looked at her, his hand on the speaker of his phone. He carefully watched her and Sansa saw he tried to figure out if it would be safe to speak.

"What do they want?" Sansa asked sighing, assuming he had to rush downtown again.

"Actually this is Jaime asking if we want to accompany him and Brienne to 'The Lion King' tonight at Broadway." Tyrion asked smirking.

"Oh" Sansa exhaled ruefully, blushing embarrassed for thinking the worse of him. She lightly ducked her head with large eyes and an apologetic smile towards him, before letting the idea wander through her head. "Will he chicken out again if we don't come with them holding hands?"

"Assumingly" Tyrion confessed with a chuckle causing Sansa to sigh again.

His brother Jaime was one of the most confident man she ever knew, but if it came to dates with Brienne, one of her mother's associates Sansa had introduced to him, he was a bumbling mess. They dates were awkward as hell, and Jaime hated to be in awkward situations. He chickened out half of the time to avoid that, leaving Sansa to sweep up the mess the next Day. Brienne was her friend and despise her strength fragile when it came to men and dates.

Both were good for each other but somehow they didn't get it started, but they wanted to. So Sansa and Tyrion were to be the pair to accompany them on their dates to make it all right when Jaime got cold foot again.

"When?" Sansa asked, closing her eyes and leaning back with a groan.

"Two hours" Tyrion answered and took her question as a yes because he started talking on his phone again.

"Your brother has a talent for timing you know that?" Sansa remarked after Tyrion had tossed his phone aside before she rose from the couch. "Come on, we have to get ready, there isn't much time."

"Hardly" Tyrion agreed and slumped from the couch ungracefully. But then he wickedly grinned up to her "We should shower together. Just to save time"

"Yeah" Sansa nodded sceptical but decided they had to make up for the lost couch evening "Save time"

-##-

One and a half hour later they sat in the back of their car driving through the crowded streets of the Big Apple. They had wasted more time than planned in the shower, but Sansa felt relaxed now. Luckily for the two their shower was customized for them so Tyrion and she could be shower on one level. Actually the contractor just included a bench in the shower Tyrion stood on, but hey.

For the evening they had chosen simple clothes, both wore jeans, Sansa's only tighter than Tyrion's. The musical weren't a formal event so Sansa saw no use for a dress or a suit for him. With her blouse and grey coat together with Tyrion in his red shirt with a black jacked they looked like an average New Yorker couple, except their height difference, there was not a hind of the money both their families possessed.

But then Sansa was sure Bronn, their Bodyguard, and Pod, Tyrion's silent assistant driving the car were a huge giveaway.

"Before I forget" Tyrion started to talk besides her, making her turn to him curiously. What was now? "We are invited to the annual Halloween Party."

"Surprise!" Sansa chuckled. They were always invited, simply because it was hosted by his family. For Sansa the party was the event of the year in the Lannister Household, let alone to see her mother-in-law forcing Tywin to a costume party every year. "I assume you have a costume I have to reject?"

"Loki!" Tyrion announced pompous "The god of mischief with the silver tongue, suitable for me, isn't it?" He grinned up to her in confidence.

"Really?" Sansa asked smirking at him, her tone telling him his idea wouldn't happen. But on the other hand she started to imagine him in a horned helmet.

"Come on!" Tyrion urged her, holding his thumb and index finger close together "I am so close to convince Jaime to dress up like Thor"

Sansa raised her eyebrow, looking down with a semi-serious expression, holding Tyrion's gaze until he sighed defeated. There wasn't a discussion about costumes and he knew that very well, still he tried.

"Why put I up with this every year?" He asked and Sansa bend down and kissed him.

"Because you love me" She sated the obvious and leaned back, letting him fall back in his seat.

Every year he wanted to dress up like he would go to ComicCon but Sansa preferred matching costumes. And she always dressed up as a Disney Princess and he was supposed to be her prince, he knew that and still he tried to convince her otherwise.

"Marvel is owned by Disney now so technically…"

"Don't try" Sansa interrupted his negotiating chuckling. "I won't go as Black Widow, we take traditionally Disney."

"Fine, but can we at least take Aladdin this time?" He smirked devilish up to her "You could wear the red costume"

"We should keep that idea for ourselves" Sansa whispered seductively in his ear, leaning down. "Like your Han Solo and Princess Leia idea"

"As you command" Tyrion grinning wide. Sansa pressed a quick kiss on his lips before straightening up, looking out of the window. They had reached the Broadway with all his lights and even from afar Sansa could see Brienne peeking out of the crowd in front of the theatre.

"Come on, we must make sure Jaime brings Brienne to the party this year, or your mother won't be happy."

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**So, hope you like it**


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